


Kidnapped by Aliens

by Annariel, lsellers (Annariel)



Series: UNIT and C19 [6]
Category: Primeval, Torchwood
Genre: Action/Adventure, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-14
Updated: 2011-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-15 15:59:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/162486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annariel/pseuds/Annariel, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annariel/pseuds/lsellers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lyle vanishes and Lester needs Torchwood's help to find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kidnapped by Aliens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fredbassett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredbassett/gifts).



> Thanks to fififolle for beta-reading. This is a sequel to `In Harm's Way'

  


# Kidnapped by Aliens

"You have reached Jon Lyle's answerphone. I'm sure you know the drill."

 _Beep_

"Jon? It's James. Can we talk? I know I've been an idiot. Ring back."

* * *

"You have reached Jon Lyle's answerphone. I'm sure you know the drill."

 _Beep_

"Lyle? Are you sulking with me? Dammit man! Phone me back."

* * *

 _Beep_

"You've been posted haven't you? Would it have killed you to let me know?"

* * *

Lester dialled the phone with some trepidation. Julia Denton was a formidable woman at the best of times.

"Hello Darling! Whoever you are!"

"It's James Lester."

"Oh!" To say the tone was frosty would have been an understatement.

"I'm trying to contact Jon."

"A bit late now, I should say."

Lester closed his eyes but refrained from sighing. Julia had a point and she _was_ Jon's mother. He hated being in the wrong but it wouldn't help to show it. "Maybe, still I'd like to try."

"I'm afraid I don't know where he is. It's all gone hush hush. I'm guessing he was posted somewhere without warning."

"But he's all right. You're next of kin, aren't you? So you'd know if anything had happened." Lester hadn't realised how concerned he was until the words actually left his mouth, but now they were out he felt a chill of fear.

"Oh dear! You have got it bad. Never sulk with a soldier, sweetie. It's too likely to remain permanent."

"I'll bear that in mind." Lester felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

"Sorry, that was low of me. I don't know. He listed your daughter as next of kin. You need to talk to her, I'm afraid. But she hasn't phoned me with bad news so I'm assuming he's all right."

Lester felt his eyebrows raising, though now he thought about it he wasn't at all surprised to find Liz was Jon's next of kin. "Thanks! I'll talk to her."

"Sort yourself out, James Lester. I liked you, but you hurt Jon badly. I don't give second chances lightly and I don't give third chances at all."

"I'll take that under advisement."

* * *

"Liz," Lester began.

"Uh oh!"

"Uh oh?"

"You're looking all serious and a little constipated. That's never good."

"Lyle." He could dance around the topic with her for hours but if he was going to have this discussion he might as well push on with it.

"What about him?" Her eyes were guarded.

What about him! Is he all right? Do you know where he is? When is he coming back? Lester knew too much about the Special Forces to ask these things.

"He's on a posting, isn't he?" he managed.

The look on her face send a frisson of horror through him. "None of you business, I'd say."

"What's happened? Liz, what's happened?"

And the hard look started to fracture.

"Oh God!" said Lester as she dissolved into tears. "Liz? What happened? What haven't you been telling me?"

"My bag?" she gulped between sniffs and he tried to hold onto her with one arm while wrestling with the bag with his other.

The letter was obvious, crumpled and worn near the bottom. Lester almost couldn't read beyond the words "Dear Miss Lester" but he forced himself to read the worst and almost shouted with relief at the phrase "missing presumed dead."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. "Or at least Julia? His mother deserved to know."

Liz murmured something incoherent but Lester caught enough to hear "not really dead."

He hung onto her but he was convinced Jon wasn't really dead. He was just too damn unputdownable to let "missing presumed" get in his way.

"I'm going to find out what happened," Lester said, "and then we're going to find Jon."

* * *

"Dad, I think they really mean dead when they say missing presumed..." Liz's voice was tentative as she stood in the doorway to his study.

Lester took a deep breath and tried to form his thoughts into something coherent or at least something more coherent that Liz's own `not really dead' explanation for why she hadn't told anyone. "Jon would never give up on any of us," he managed in the end. "I owe it to him."

"You might owe it to him but..." but Liz didn't finish the but, she looked strained and red-eyed. "I'd better phone his mum," she said instead, with a kind of finality in her voice.

"He's not dead, Liz. He can't be."

She nodded. "I know."

She turned and left and moments later he heard her on the phone. "Hi Julia, it's Liz. I've got some bad news."

He'd drawn a blank with UNIT's official PR person for families. Lester picked up the phone and dialled Jenny's number.

"I was expecting to hear from you earlier," she said before he'd even had a chance to identify himself.

"Liz only just told me."

There was a short silence at the end of the phone.

"There was some kind of drive by intergalactic kidnapping about a month ago," Jenny said. "Big spaceship turned up over a small village in Dorset. We sent Lyle's team down. Twenty-four hours later the ship leaves and the entire squad have vanished. The civilian villagers are all fine but have no coherent memories of what happened. I'll try to get the file sent over to you."

"What are UNIT doing about all this?"

"Standard procedure, such as is. Hamza's pushing hard, as is the Brigadier so it isn't being ignored."

Lester hmmmed down the phone. It didn't sound promising, on the other hand kidnapped by aliens was definitely a step up from missing presumed dead.

"Connor has contacts with Torchwood, doesn't he?" said Jenny unexpectedly.

Lester groaned.

"I know, but shortcuts will be faster than standard procedure, don't you think?"

* * *

"This isn't quite what I had expected." Lester couldn't help the remark.

Connor had done some phoning around which, Lester gathered, hadn't gone well. Connor's preferred contacts all seemed to be dead or missing and, finally, he had reluctantly phoned someone called Gwen and a rather tense conversation had followed. He then gave Lester the name of a cafe in Cardiff and a time.

In Lester's imagination. this Gwen person had assumed the status of some kind of stoney-faced harridan, the Christine Johnson of Torchwood. The kind of person who Connor would dislike and be scared of. Instead he found a smiling Welsh woman with dodgy teeth and a large fat baby bouncing in her lap. Next to her sat a largeish smiling bloke, introduced as Rhys Williams, who mostly interacted with the baby and had `doting father' written across him in large letters.

"We're short-staffed," Gwen said in reply to Lester's look.

"So I see."

Gwen appeared to be about to retort back and then her face softened a little, as if she were thinking the better of something. "Look, I'm sorry about the business with Connor."

"I wasn't aware there was a business with Connor." Lester's curiosity was piqued. He had the impression that Connor enjoyed his secondment with Torchwood, but obviously there had been more to it than he was told.

"Well, I'm sorry anyway. More than happy to help, too."

"She can't resist a love story," interrupted the man.

"I wasn't aware this was a love story."

If he'd been less anxious about Jon, Lester would have made note of the intensely sceptical expressions on both of their faces and plotted a quiet but deadly revenge. As it was he chose to stare out of the window with a slightly bored expression on his face.

"He's a bit of a cold fish, this one," said the man.

"He's just shy, I expect," said Gwen airily.

"I think I'm a bit overcome," Lester responded drily.

"Torchwood can take people like that," replied Rhys.

"Anyway, true love is good," said Gwen. "That's how I managed to talk Jack into this."

"Jack Harkness?"

"Who else? He's meeting us up on Garth Hill."

* * *

"I'm hardly dressed for a yomp," Lester complained, surveying the landscape. They had driven up some kind of small track and parked in a farm yard. Steep hillside stretched up in front of them.

"It's not too far. It'll do you good!" Gwen grinned at him as she helped Rhys into the baby sling.

"I'm not sure it needs all three of you to escort me, to be honest." Lester eyed the baby dubiously. He had nothing against babies per se. Mixing them with work made him uncomfortable. It was probably typical of Torchwood.

"Where she goes, I go," said Rhys firmly, nodding at Gwen.

Gwen grinned secretly at Lester and mouthed `humour him'.

They walked for about a mile from the farmyard. Far enough for the immaculate hem of Lester's trousers to get distinctly damp but not so far that he thought the suit was a total write off. Then they paused while Gwen fiddled around with a small signalling unit. It was dusk and Lester anticipated, without enthusiasm, the return walk in the dark.

Seconds later Captain Jack Harkness appeared from out of nowhere. Lester schooled his face into a lack of reaction. He'd seen photos of Jack Harkness, the man was infamous in their line of work, but he had to admit the photos didn't do him justice. In the flesh he seemed full of life and enthusiasm while in the images he seemed characterless, blandly pretty in an old-fashioned kind of the way that made you think he was an old-fashioned kind of Captain.

"Jack!" Gwen threw her arms around Harkness in an entirely unprofessional fashion. "You came!"

"As if I could miss a tale of star-crossed lovers." Jack's eyes twinkled. "And is this the baby?"

Lester rolled his eyes as Jack cooed at the baby in the sling and Rhys shook his hand in a slightly bluff fashion.

When the obligatory baby-talk appeared to be dying down, Lester stepped forwards a little stiffly. "Captain Jack, delighted to meet you at last." He held out his hand.

"The pleasure is all mine." Jack's grin was almost a leer. "Gwen tells me UNIT lost some men in a recent drive by."

"That seems to be the gist of it, yes."

Jack's grin widened. "I picked up a Vulcani ship on the way in. I reckon they're still here, just cloaked."

"Don't UNIT have equipment to detect that sort of thing?"

"Obviously not. It's typical of the Vulcani, they like to use slaves for heavy labour but they're basically cowards. If they think the cloaking technology will hide them, they'll be waiting for the fuss to die down before they make a run for it."

"It's been three weeks," said Lester. He hoped he sounded dubious but he had to admit he was reeling slightly from the thought that there was an alien spaceship up above them somewhere. It wasn't that he didn't know what UNIT and Torchwood did, but the reality, even as reported by Jack Harkness, was a little different from seeing it on paper.

"It'll be leaving soon then. No time to waste. I've brought a spare teleport with me."

Lester found a thick bracelet strapped to his arm. "Now wait a minute..." he stuttered.

"You want to rescue your handsome dashing Captain, don't you?"

"Well, yes, but..."

The Welsh countryside began to fade around him. He was aware of Jack waving and Gwen and Rhys waving back.

"...I'm not a field agent," he finished lamely as a long and dirty metal corridor blurred into existence around him.

"You'll pick it up." Lester began to think he was going to find Jack's grin very irritating, sometime very soon.

"I sincerely hope not." Lester shuddered. "I assume you have something resembling a plan."

"Vulcanians," Jack shrugged as if this explained everything.

"Enlighten me."

"Sneaky but not particularly dangerous." Jack pulled out yet another random piece of technology. "All I need to do is scan for human life signs and then get a fix on them."

Lester crossed his arms and deployed his best, `I'm waiting' stare. Jack winked at him.

"Down and to the right!" said Jack and waved the device at Lester's feet.

"Would it be too much to hope you have a plan of this ship and know where down and to the right might be and how to get there?"

"Are you always this sarcastic?"

Lester stared coldly.

"You're a bureaucrat. I've teleported you up to an alien spaceship. We're about to embark on an adventure to rescue your boyfriend and all you do is stare at me."

"Wouldn't want to let standards drop."

Lester held Jack's eyes and noticed the corners of Jack's mouth twitch.

"Jimmy, my boy, I may be beginning to like you." Jack slapped Lester on the back and headed off down the corridor.

Lester straightened his tie and followed. "Oh, I do hope not."

* * *

They quickly found a staircase and headed down. The spaceship was dark and industrial-looking. Lester felt as though he were inside a large factory. There was a constant low rumbling sound of engines grinding away in the dim light.

"No more down," reported Jack suddenly.

"Are we level with the men yet?"

"Not quite, another floor to go I think."

Lester looked at the bulky door in front of them. "We need to try the corridor then. We've been lucky so far. The place seems deserted."

"They're on night cycle, I think. They may also be short-staffed. That could explain the kidnapping. They don't normally target planets at Earth's technological level. It's too risky."

Jack rubbed his sleeve on the grimy glass of the door. Lester peered through and then stepped backwards hastily. A large hanger was visible beyond. Two short, squat creatures stood immediately in front of the door. They must have been about three feet high and had brownish-red skin and large bulbous eyes.

"Go back up?" asked Lester.

"That door on the opposite side of the hanger is another staircase."

"How can you tell?"

"I read Vulcani. It says staircase seven above it."

Lester frowned. He knew the longer they spent creeping around the ship, the more likely they were to get caught and Jack's sensors said the men were really very close.

"I'm open to suggestions," said Lester.

"Psychic paper!" Jack produced a small wallet from his pocket. "That should do the trick."

Lester took the wallet from him and looked inside. "You think they'll be impressed by your vital statistics?"

Jack waggled his eyebrows at Lester. "No, those were for you, look."

In front of Lester's eyes the documentation morphed and now told him Jack was some kind of minor official in something called the Shadow Proclamation.

"Is that an authority these Vulcani would recognise?" asked Lester. "You said they were basically cowardly."

Jack flashed another grin. "They _might_ recognise it. I'll say I'm a health and safety inspector."

Lester eyed Jack's flamboyant coat and then brushed the sleeves of his own jacket. "I think I look more the part, don't you?"

"Have you ever done a Health and Safety inspection?"

"As it happens, yes. Have you?"

"This is a terrible idea." Jack handed him the psychic paper. "Just remember who you're supposed to be."

Lester didn't even spare a glance at the two Vulcani as he strolled out into the corridor and headed for the doorway opposite. There was a clicking sound and he sensed rather than saw weapons being brought to bear. He turned and stared at the two guards, one eyebrow raised.

"Yes?" he asked.

"Who are you?" asked one of the creatures.

"Shadow Proclamation, routine inspection. May I pass? Time is short but I would hate to get shot." Lester allowed a tone of resigned boredom into his voice and flipped open the psychic paper.

The two Vulcani exchanged glances.

"Health and Safety?" one asked.

"There _are_ rules you know. Minimum standards even on slave ships. For instance, have you been properly trained in safety procedures for those guns?"

" _Safety Procedures_?"

"You can look sceptical but you'll be a lot less amused if your friend here accidentally shoots you because he's forgotten to put whatever passes for a safety catch on."

Both guards instinctively lifted their guns and checked something.

"Well, do hurry up and make up your minds." Lester tapped his foot in apparent irritation.

"I'll check!" said one of the Vulcani. "You wait here."

He headed across the hanger, presumably looking for some kind of telephone point.

Lester tutted and then stared the remaining guard in the eye. "I'll be down here." He gestured at the far door. "You can always send someone after me if you think I'm not supposed to be here. But I don't have time for this."

Then he turned his back on the creature and pushed through the door, with Jack on his heels.

"Not bad," said Jack once they were on the other side. "I thought you'd be more obnoxious."

"I've always found boredom more effective than impoliteness. What are you doing?" Lester observed that Jack was waving what looked like a pen light at the door.

"Sealing the door. Slow them up a bit." The metal edges of the door began to melt and fuse together.

"Is that wise?" Lester asked.

"Maybe, maybe not." Jack switched off the light and straightened up. "However now we're committed. Down, down, to goblin town we go, my lad!"

* * *

The temperature increased as they descended the stairs.

"They presumably know where we're going," muttered Lester.

"Oh, I should think so, don't you?"

Lester sighed in an exaggerated fashion. "Bluffing won't work next time."

"True, you better have this," said Jack and fished a Glock from a pocket.

"That reassures me no end."

"Go on, admit it! You're loving this."

"I'm going to admit no such thing."

That time Jack definitely leered at him. "Well, here we are!"

Jack pushed at the door but it didn't budge.

"Locked. That's promising. Let's see if we can hack the lock code." Yet more gizmos appeared out of his pockets and one was hooked up to the keypad by the door. Moments later, it sprung open. The heat washed over them like a blast and they stumbled into a small chamber. Huge furnaces lined the walls, glowing hot while men, humans, shovelled dull green rocks into them.

Lester gaped. "Surely they have machines to do this."

Jack shrugged. "If they do, they don't use them."

Lester looked around. "No guards."

"Probably don't need them. These men aren't going anywhere and I guess they don't get fed if they don't work."

Lester strained to make out the figures who where silhouetted against the bright lights of the furnaces. He was looking for Jon.

"Right! Gentlemen!" shouted Jack, striding into the room. "This is the rescue party!"

The Glock felt slippery in Lester's damp palms. He was aware that he sort of sidled into the room in the wake of Jack's billowing coat.

"James!" It was more a croak than an exclamation, but Lester was immediately able to pick Jon out from the crowd. He was stripped to the waist and dirty streaks were smeared across his torso and face but he looked well. Thin, but well. Lester was already staggering towards him.

"Jon."

Then he had his arms around Jon and could feel Lyle pulling him in tight and crushing his ribs. Lester kissed Jon, and welcomed the strength and enthusiasm of the lips against his. He allowed, for a moment, the relief to wash out his other concerns.

"Time for that later!" said Jack. "Captain! Can we barricade ourselves into here?"

"For a while," said Lyle, thoughtfully. "How will that help?"

Jack wriggled his wrist. "Teleport. We just have to keep the Vulcani out long enough to evacuate everyone." Jack pulled more bracelets from a pocket. "Only five at a time, I'm afraid."

Jon's back imperceptibly straightened, but Lester recognised his quiet switch into readiness.

"OK! Kemp! Shah! I want all the doors barricaded shut on the double. Jenkins! Leighfield! Carson! Take Hibbert and get planetside." Lyle turned back to Jack. "Hibbert's been injured. We've been covering for him. Carson is our medic, and Jenkins is my 2iC. He'll be able to set about getting help once they're on the ground."

Jack nodded. "Sounds like a plan! Then I'll come back for the rest of you."

Lester realised Jack was unbuckling the teleport device from his arm and transferring it to one of the soldiers.

Lester glanced down at the Glock and then up at the two doors which the soldiers were busy piling heavy equipment against.

"I think I'll take that," offered Jon.

"You mean you've not kept track of your weaponry?"

Jon rolled his eyes. "Quit snarking and hand over the gun unless you want to do all the shooting yourself."

Lester felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Well you've obviously not been treated that badly if you can still give me lip."

Jon snorted and took the gun from him.

"We've got Vulcani here, Sir!" shouted one of the soldiers at the main door.

Jon blew Lester a kiss and then he was lightly jogging across the room. As he raised the Glock and started firing over the barricade Jack reappeared.

"Transport's here!" he shouted.

"Kemp, Patel, Fisher, Lester! Get with him!"

"Now wait a minute," began Lester.

"You're non-combatant, now go, sweetie!" shouted Jon.

"He has a point," said Jack.

Lester tried desperately to think of a reason he should stay but the moments were ticking and time was of the essence.

"I feel strangely useless," he muttered, strapping the wrist band back on.

"How long have you been a manager? And you've only just noticed," asked Jack, and the ship faded from view.

* * *

Lester didn't bite his fingernails. In fact Lester hadn't bitten his fingernails since he was roughly age eight and a schoolteacher had passed comment. He found it beneficial to keep this fact in mind for what his watch told him were the following 4 minutes and 23 seconds, until Jack, Lyle and the one remaining member of the UNIT squad came into view.

"Jon!" Lester couldn't help letting the relief show in his voice.

"Really, sweetie," said Lyle. "We were apart for what, five minutes just then? And you haven't spoken to me properly in a couple of months."

"About that..." Lester felt suddenly awkward.

Jon raised his hand. "You just came to rescue me, in one of your hand-tailored Savile Row suits, no less. I'll take that as an apology."

Then Lester just had to grab hold of him and kiss him again.

He was vaguely aware of Jack Harkness saying something and even more aware of Lyle seamlessly flipping the man a finger while continuing to kiss Lester back.


End file.
